Meet The Malfoys
by eventhestarsdie
Summary: They've been together for over two years now. Draco thinks it's time for Harry to, finally, meet the parents.


**Disclaimer: I don't think I really need to mention this but, of course, I don't own Harry Potter. I'm not the wonderful J.K. Rowling, just an overly-obsessed fan with an undying love for Drarry.**

**Again, this was a prompt from Tumblr. You could say that this is a sort-of-sequel to my other oneshot "Meet The Dursleys" but (apart from being in the same verse in my mind) there aren't any spoilers or carry-on's from that first fic to this one. They can both be read separately.**

* * *

Draco opened the bathroom door and stepped out from tiles to carpet, the steam rolling through the air behind him, following him into the bedroom. While he was only clad in his towel, damp from already drying himself before he emerged, Harry was almost fully clothed and standing in front of the mirror, staring back at his reflection nervously. He furrowed his brow as he sifted his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his raven locks. Unfortunately, the meddling was only making it worse. Draco folded his arms across his scarred chest, an amused smile forming on his lips as he watched Harry fidget. It was a few more moments before Harry noticed the blonde behind him in the mirror, and he span round with a huff, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

"I'm sorry Draco, but I just can't do this," he said, rubbing his temples soothingly.

"You've sported the bed-head look for twenty years, what makes you think you can suddenly tame it now?" Draco smirked, the amusement still clear in his voice.

"Draco," Harry growled, "You know that's not what I'm talking about, I-" Harry stopped himself and sighed, pausing, trying to find the right words to bail himself out of tonight's events, and sighing once more because he couldn't. "Your mother... your father... Draco, I-"

"Don't, Harry," Draco warned as calmly as he could. He, too, sighed.

Stepping closer to his lover, he pulled the clothed man into his arms and snaked his arms around the entirety of Harry's upper body, resting his chin on the top of his head. Harry flopped, defeated, into the embrace. His arms trapped in the confines of Draco's own; his fingers tracing the faint, pink, damaged flesh on the blonde's chest.

He was the reason for those scars.

During the initial months of their relationship – after they realised it wasn't just angsty sex they were after – Harry would wince at the sight of those scars, and occasionally bubble out apologies for making Draco's life hell throughout their years at Hogwarts. Draco would just brush it off, tell him to stop being so emotional, that he didn't care about their past but only about their present and their future. Until one day he cracked: Harry will never forget those words.

"_Harry, you need to stop apologising. There's really no need."_

"_But- I nearly killed you! I'm so sorry, Draco, and no matter how many times you tell me not to apologise, well, I will. I will never forgive myself for hurting yo-"_

"_Potter, you listen to me right now! You know why I tell you not to say sorry? Because I like these, okay? I like these scars. As much as I hate thinking about my past I will never forget how we used to torment each other, or how we'd constantly hit each other with insults or curses... Harry, don't look so hurt; don't you get it? Loads of our schoolmates will be able to sit down one day and tell their children that they met each other at Hogwarts – that they were childhood sweethearts – but how many of them will be able to say that they were sworn enemies? That they despised each other but the war, the tragedy of it all, no matter how horrific it may have been, showed them what they had been missing all along? That's true romance, Harry, and that's what we have. When we- if we ever grow old together and have children, I want to be able to tell them all about our history. I want to be able to laugh with them about their Aunt Hermione punching me in the nose; their father refusing to be my friend; all those awful Quidditch chants I made up about their Uncle Ron; and you, saving my life during the Battle when you should have been saving your own._

"_Harry, you've marked me. You've marked my heart and my mind and all I can think about is you. All I _breathe _is you. Lovebites and fingernail grazes – they fade, but these scars, Harry, don't. These scars remind me that I am yours. I am property of Harry James Potter, and I'm more than okay with that."_

Ever since then Harry cherished those scars. When they had drunken sex, he'd bite and nip at them until Draco was growling with arousal; when they made love, he'd lavish them searing tongues and hot kisses, until Draco was giving out delectable little moans that Harry could no longer ignore. When they were cuddling in bed or on the sofa, he'd trace over them lightly with his fingertips, cherishing them with sweet, loving touches. Something which he used to flinch at was now his source of comfort. It reminded him that Draco was _his_, that he'd never leave, and that soothed him.

Feeling a little more relaxed, Harry wriggled in Draco's arms to let him know to loosen his grip. He did, but not before rolling his chin forward and pressing a kiss against the unruly, brown curls. Harry looked up at him and smiled faintly. He need not put on a show for Draco as the man knew how Harry was feeling better than he himself did, but regardless, he did it anyway to prove he wasn't so weak.

"I'm sorry," he announced, gazing up at the blonde, "I know this is important to you and I'm going to do it. It's just your father hates me – I put him in Azkaban for Merlin's sake! Oh god, Draco-" Harry was beginning to wind himself up again, his self-torment darting around his eyes.

"Calm down," Draco said strictly. His tone was light but authoritative and somehow, whenever he used his 'I'm-the-boss' voice, Harry obeyed. He waited until the other male had took a few deep breaths before continuing. "Yes, maybe you did put him in Azkaban, and I doubt he's forgotten, but I don't doubt that he's forgave. You may have put him there once but you rescued him, my mother and myself from returning there. He's grateful for that, I'm sure. He'd never show it but he is."

Harry shifted around awkwardly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, not knowing how to reply. Draco took this as a sign that he had won. He straightened up his posture and nudged the bottom of Harry's chin with his knuckle, forcing him to look up into his eyes.

"Right, now that we're done with your nerves we better move onto your hair. And that tie clashes completely with your shirt, what were you thinking?"

* * *

They arrived at Malfoy Manor just over an hour later. Harry was now sporting a metallic-grey shirt with a black, skinny tie with matching trousers and blazer. Draco was dressed in a crisp, black shirt, black trousers and suit jacket, but insisted on sprucing up his attire with an emerald green tie and belt. Green was his favourite colour and Harry always teased him about it _once a Slytherin always a Slytherin- _but he knew the real reason on why he favourited that particular shade of green so much: it was the exact same colour as Harry's eyes.

It was hard for Harry to be back in the Manor but he hadn't expected anything less. Last time he was here Hermione was being tortured in the drawing room and he, Ron and Luna were held captive in the cellars. Now he was returning to spend afternoon lunch with Draco's parents. This was the first time he had met them since their relationship had started two years ago, and he was worried. Everyone knew that he had awful etiquette and couldn't make a good first impression to save himself.

He half-expected Voldemort to come floating round the corner too, with Lucius and Narcissa either side, and his whole relationship with Draco to be a scam to finally kill the Boy-Who-Lived once and for all. Of course he knew that wasn't going to happen, but the eerie silence of the Malfoy home wasn't helping in putting his over-active mind at rest.

The clicks and clunks of their footsteps rang through Harry's ears as they walked through the halls of the Manor. It was a lot warmer in atmosphere than he remembered – not that he wanted to remember anything about his previous visit here – and that put him at ease a little. He was, however, grateful when they finally stopped and he realised Draco had led them into a conservatory. He could feel the warmth of the glowing, afternoon sun as it pelted down upon them, and just beyond the wide-open French patio doors, and long, full length window panes, was a beautiful, blooming garden. That certainly calmed him down. It wasn't until he heard a strong yet soft, feminine voice that he realised himself and Draco were not alone anymore.

"Do you like my garden, Mr. Potter?" It was Narcissa.

Harry swallowed the rising lump in his throat and turned to look at Lady Malfoy. She was daunting but judging by the genuine, motherly smile on her lips, she was trying her best to make him comfortable.

"Please, call me Harry," he said, trying hard to flash her a confident smile. "And yes, I do, Mrs. Malfoy, very much. It must have taken a lot of hard work to get it so... beautiful."

You'd think after defeating Voldemort, surviving the Killing Curse _twice_, and presenting many speeches on behalf of the Ministry on the War and equality and their 'New Start', Harry could take on anything. And maybe he could, when it came to all those things, but not when it came to meeting the Malfoys'. The way Narcissa was eyeing him up left him quaking in his dragon hide boots.

"Well then, Harry, if we're on first name terms you best call me Narcissa. Come, take a seat," she said, before turning her gaze towards the vast and wondrous garden on the other side of the glass panes. Draco made a move to sit down next to Harry but she, at that moment, looked up towards her only child and smiled. "Draco, dear, I think your father is in his study. You best inform him you've arrived," she told him. Without a single word, Draco headed for the exit, glancing back briefly at Harry and giving him a look that was half-pity for being trapped, alone, with his mother and half-amusement at, well, being trapped, alone, with his mother.

A few tense moments past before Narcissa spoke up again.

"You were right. It took a lot of work. I even had to buy a completely different wardrobe for gardening because my robes would just get so dirty," she announced casually, as if she were talking to a friend.

"Wait... You did all that? By yourself?" Harry asked, astonished. He didn't take Narcissa as the working type.

"Don't sound so shocked," she turned to him and smirked in amusement. It reminded him so much of Draco. "I may be a pure-blood housewife but there's only so many breakfast and afternoon tea's you can attend before your life gets utterly boring. Even people like me need a hobby," she told him.

"N-no, I didn't mean anything by it, I swear," Harry stumbled on his words in a panic – he didn't want Narcissa thinking ill of him so early on in the day. "I just meant- it's just- it's all so beautiful. Truly."

Narcissa seemed amused by his fumbling. _Exactly _like Draco. "I know, dear, no need to work yourself into a mess over it."

Harry had never expected the Lady to be so kind and gentle, and open towards him. He thought the entire Malfoy family were cold, even to each other, but he clearly had it wrong. Did this mean, since he was subject to her kindness, that Narcissa approved of him? For a split second, he thought it did. Until Narcissa's warm smile turned into a frown of concern. Then all hope drained from him.

"You know more than anyone the hardship we have gone through, the war has hurt and damaged us all. You must understand that my little Draco was forced into something way beyond him; he has been scarred from his experiences and I thought it had ruined him, until you came along. I'm glad that you make my boy happy now, so very glad, but I warn you not to break him any further. I fear that might be his tipping point. Do not hurt him, Harry."

"I don't plan to, Narcissa," he said with confidence. It was the only thing he was confident of. He _knew_ he could never hurt Draco: he would love him and protect him for the remainder of his days, he was sure of it.

Narcissa smiled, not only at being address by her first name, but because she not only knew of the truth in his words but she could _feel_ it radiating off of him as he spoke.

"I believe you, Harry. I can see your love for him is just as strong as mine and I have faith in you both. Although, I cannot say that the relationship didn't initially come as quite a shock," Narcissa said. Her warm smile returned, signalling the end of her interrogation, and making Harry feel a lot more comfortable than before.

"Yeah, for me too," he chuckled. Lady Malfoy joined in and the ice was finally broken between the two. They went on to discuss the flowerbeds by the conservatory doors and how Draco, as a young boy, used to help Narcissa with the gardening, along with other embarrassing stories from Draco's childhood that Harry swore to question him about later.

The nice chitchat continued for awhile before they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The pair turned at the same time to see Lucius standing awkwardly, trying to remain proud, in the doorway and Draco peering over his shoulder behind him. The blood drained from Harry's face one more.

* * *

The four were sat in the conservatory sipping cups of tea. They had gone through a whole two teapots worth so far, due to lapping it up all rather quickly to distract themselves from the growing silence. Harry and Lucius's initial confrontation was more awkward than terrifying but Harry was too scared to speak up in case he made a bad impression out of it. Not once had he cared about what other people thought of him until now.

Lucius, nor anyone else for that matter, hadn't uttered a word for a number of minutes, and looked like he was planning on keeping it that way, until the house-elf appeared next to Harry with a loud _pop. _Tizzy, the elf, appartated in a little too close to the sofa for comfort and almost dropped the tray she was holding with more tea, milk, sugar, and some sandwiches. Harry, without thinking, swiftly grabbed the tray before anything toppled over and spilled and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. It wasn't until Tizzy started apologising profusely to her Master that he realised what he had just done. Looking up, Lucius's eyes were boaring into him in anger and Narcissa was looking at him in pity. Draco didn't know where to look as he held back a laugh – _trust Harry to do the noble thing._ Harry blushed.

Malfoy Senior shooed the elf away, his gaze never breaking from Harry.

"I'd advise you to stay away from my house-elves, Mr. Potter. We don't want a repeat of last time, do we?" Lucius drawled. His voice was fragile – you could tell the War had drained him dry of all livelihood – but still prickly.

"No, Sir," Harry replied, straightening his posture as he did. He almost missed the quiet snicker coming from Draco beside him. Almost.

Narcissa placed a calming hand on top of Lucius's own and took it upon herself to change the subject.

"It's been too long since we saw you last, Draco. You really ought to visit us more," she said.

Harry looked down guiltily. It was his fault Draco never came to see his parents often: Harry always had him at The Burrow, or at Ron and Hermione's, or spending time together, and the rest of the time he was at work. It had never occurred to him that he should let Draco have some time to himself; to catch up with his family and his _own _friends.

"I'm sorry, mother, but you know how work can be. Never a free day. I promise this won't be a one off, though," Draco replied. Harry felt guiltier for having Draco lie to his own mother like that but Narcissa seemed to shrug it off and change topic again.

"Doesn't he looks so different, Lucius, darling? So handsome and wise."

Now it was Draco's turn to blush.

"Mother, please, don't embarrass me," he practically whined, just like a little boy. And _now _it was Harry's turn to snicker.

"Draco, dear, hold your tongue. You know you love the attention, you always have-"

"_Mother!" _

Harry laughed quietly to himself once more. Though when he turned to catch Lucius still staring at him his laughter subsided, although the bickering between Mother and Son continued on. Lucius no longer looked angry – he just looked fed up. What with, Harry had no idea – life? Being confined to the Manor day-in day-out? Pretending to hate Harry? The last one was a little far fetched but Harry still hoped that one day he'd warm to him. He didn't want much, just acceptance. But whatever Lucius was fed up with, his penetrative, miffed gaze was still making Harry extremely uneasy and, with Narcissa and Draco squabbling, he had no one to distract him and nothing to do but to stare right back.

* * *

"Never again," Harry groaned. He flopped onto the sofa, now in the safety of his own flat, and used the heels of his palms to rub his tired eyes. Draco chuckled.

"That's funny, because I recall _someone _making plans to visit my mother next week with Teddy," he smirked. "That doesn't sound like 'never again' to me."

"Oh, shut up," he growled, a hint of playfulness dancing in his words. Harry stood up and turned around to face Draco.

"Well, I think it went rather well, don't you?" Draco asked, closing the gap between himself and Harry. He snaked his arms around the brunette's hips and gazed down into those bright green eyes.

"You must be joking!" Harry protested, slipping his own arms around Draco's neck. "Your father was staring at me like I was his next meal!"

"No wonder he wasn't touching the cucumber sandwiches – clearly he was saving himself for something more... _succulent,_" Draco lowered his lips down and laughed huskily against Harry's neck, sending chills down his lover's spine, before nipping at the smooth skin with his teeth.

Harry gasped, tangling his hands in Draco's platinum locks. "Draco..." he groaned, half-protesting at his last comment, half-_oh-lord-Draco-please-don't-stop._ He planted a series of kisses from neck to ear, from ear to cheekbone, from cheekbone down the jawline, and from jawline to lips, before pulling away and leaving Harry hungry with lust.

"You owe me, Mr. Malfoy," he purred, wetting his lips with his raspberry-pink tongue.

Draco hummed in agreement. Before he knew it, Harry was being thrown back onto the couch again and his lips had been captured in the most desperate and passionate and, frankly, well-earned kiss. Today could possibly be labelled one of his worst and most nerve-racking days in years, but if this was his reward... He'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought.**

**Much love and until next time. x**


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